Love Bears all things, believes all things, hopes all things,ENDURES ALL Things...

Murphy's Law...

I never had a slice of bread,Particularly large and wide,That did not fall upon the floor,And always on the buttered side.[1]

Sunday, July 31, 2016

you bear it. That is all

I started this blog from my couch. Most of it's posts were from my porch or patio or couch, with a cup of coffee in my hand. Today I'm sitting in an oversized chair, with a glass of red wine.

I don't know if I became a different person first or if my life's circumstances changed me.

For the record... I still drink coffee.

If you just stumbled upon this blog, you'd only see a few posts. There used to be several. Years worth actually. But I divorced and became a full time student and working mom.

Many people would say that was of my own choosing. Technically, they'd be correct.

I loved my family. I loved my role as mom. I still do.

My girls used to have pigtails and rosy cheeks. My boys wanted held and played with wooden blocks.

Those days are long gone.

My girls are teenagers now, my boys full on boys. My teenagers smell like teenagers and fight like cats and dogs. My boys wrestle and yell and throw balls in the house.

Divorce was hard. I spent 15 years married to one man. I spent 15 years married to the Army. And no one knows how to remind you that you are no longer an army wife like that of the army wives.

I'll probably catch hell for that. I'll probably catch hell for all of this. Someone is always disappointed in a choice. Disagrees with a decision. Knows the better answer. Thinks private matters should be kept private. (For the record, so do I, but I've never shy-ed away from telling my story. I can't help but feel like if it helps just one person feel they aren't alone, then my battle wasn't for nothing) So I share my battles. My thoughts. My life. My feelings.

I remember when my grandfather died. I remember what it felt like to not get to attend the funeral. To have no one able to take you to the airport. To not be able to drive because if you missed class you'd be kicked out of the program. To have no one willing to watch your children.

I remember getting not one call of condolence. Not one meal brought. My sweet Chloe picked me a flower and made me a card. I came home from a long shift on the ambulance, poured a glass of wine, and toasted my grandfather for all that he was and all that he raised me to be. I finally got to visit his grave this spring.

I remember when I was a stay at home mom, we did meal trains for people, helped clean their homes, did their laundry, took their kids out to play.

But I belonged to no one any longer. No family here, no longer a member of the military family, it was just me... and my babies. That was a hard lesson learned.

I had no idea, at the time, what it was preparing me for.

Saturday morning my phone rang and by Wednesday the nightmare had become a reality.

After nearly 17 years together, 15 of those married, we had the terrible conversation with our children of the dissolution of our marriage. It's one thing to have to have this life altering conversation with babies. It's another to have to look at the children the two of you shared and have to tell them that the man they call daddy has passed away. And to have to do it alone.

Those years we shared. Those memories. Those don't dissolve when the marriage does.

I don't know what I am or am not allowed to feel. I have no idea how to navigate this. Here I sit, me a glass of red wine, the computer Ken bought me, and a house full of children that have never been more lost.

I may not feel like cooking dinner, doing laundry, or playing a board game, but I now know I can. And I know I have to. I now know my children won't break during this time if they are made to "chip in". The realization that I now have that sole responsibility (and honor) of tucking them in at night, makes it just a little more difficult to breathe.

After receiving the news I rushed to Walgreens to print off some pictures of the kids with their daddy. Individual shots of each in a frame to give to them when I broke the news of the death of their father to them. As I drove down the driveway I had to slap my cheeks and say "Get your shit together woman"!!

This one hurt.

Abby said: "Mommy, my brain keeps forgetting he's gone. And I hate that I'm the one that has to remind it that he is."

My God... she's just a kid.

This Saturday I will say my final goodbyes to many things and I will watch as my children are made to lay their father to rest... and there isn't enough wine on the planet for that.

I'm now answering questions about things I thought I had time to prepare for and we are remembering joyous times we had been too busy to recall. We are doing our best to keep him alive through memory, and picture, and love... and luckily we have a little book, produced from a blog, that documents the many years we shared. I'd like to think he'd be proud.

5 comments:

My heart aches for you and your precious children. There are no words, no instructions, or guidance that one can give when tragedy such as this strikes. I sit here virtually speechless, knowing firsthand that there is nothing that can be said nor done to take away the pain and emptiness. I can tell you that in spite of the distance between us that I am here should you ever need an ear- just as you were there for me in the months after my Daddy passed away when we were in middle school. My love and prayers are with you and yours, my dear friend. Always. May God wrap each of you in His arms and bring you peace, remind you to laugh, smile, and above all to keep Ken's memory alive.

Jen, like i said before their are no words that i could possibly say to you that would make a tragedy like this any easier. However, what i can say and what i do know is that you are a good mother and those kids which while forever be your babies, are bright, beautiful, amazing human beings who will with God's grace get through this eaxh in their own way. What i will also do is pray that God wraps tgose precious babies in His arms and holds them close and brings them comfort as they face the future without the physical presence of their dad. I hope they will be able to keep Ken's memory alive their minds and hearts and with you by their side i have no doubt that will. May God also bring you strength and wisdom to say the right the things when things need to be said and to simply know that sometimes there are no words to be said just being there will be all they need. I wish you all the love a friend can give and hope this brings you some bit of comfort.

I can't help but sometimes think about how it used to be. How they used to be. I can clearly remember moments in time where I typed u...

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WELCOME TO HOLLANDbyEmily Perl Kingsley.

c1987 by Emily Perl Kingsley. All rights reserved

I am often asked to describe the experience of raising a child with a disability - to try to help people who have not shared that unique experience to understand it, to imagine how it would feel. It's like this......When you're going to have a baby, it's like planning a fabulous vacation trip - to Italy. You buy a bunch of guide books and make your wonderful plans. The Coliseum. The Michelangelo David. The gondolas in Venice. You may learn some handy phrases in Italian. It's all very exciting.After months of eager anticipation, the day finally arrives. You pack your bags and off you go. Several hours later, the plane lands. The stewardess comes in and says, "Welcome to Holland.""Holland?!?" you say. "What do you mean Holland?? I signed up for Italy! I'm supposed to be in Italy. All my life I've dreamed of going to Italy."But there's been a change in the flight plan. They've landed in Holland and there you must stay.The important thing is that they haven't taken you to a horrible, disgusting, filthy place, full of pestilence, famine and disease. It's just a different place.So you must go out and buy new guide books. And you must learn a whole new language. And you will meet a whole new group of people you would never have met.It's just a different place. It's slower-paced than Italy, less flashy than Italy. But after you've been there for a while and you catch your breath, you look around.... and you begin to notice that Holland has windmills....and Holland has tulips. Holland even has Rembrandts.But everyone you know is busy coming and going from Italy... and they're all bragging about what a wonderful time they had there. And for the rest of your life, you will say "Yes, that's where I was supposed to go. That's what I had planned."And the pain of that will never, ever, ever, ever go away... because the loss of that dream is a very very significant loss.But... if you spend your life mourning the fact that you didn't get to Italy, you may never be free to enjoy the very special, the very lovely things ... about Holland.

Save the Baby Humans! That way people will still be here to help the Seals!!